Timings
by Caruncle
Summary: A post series one shot set around Will and Kate. Please R


**Timings**

A/N: So this is my first West Wing fic! I just finished watching all the boxsets and I can't believe I've lived this long without it in my life. Whilst I love all the west wing pairings I could help but think that Will and Kate got a bit short changed in the finale as it was left so ambiguously and so I felt the need to ramble on about how it might have gone between them. It starts just after the finale finishes and kind of goes from there. I hope you enjoy it and excuse my poor grammar; it's been a long day!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, just playing with them for a little while.

After the movie had finished they walked up and round the same streets avoiding the conversation they both knew they needed but, so badly, didn't want to have. Neither of them wanted to go back to the other's apartment as they knew the resultant conversation would mean they'd have to leave, because there was no answer to this question that left them both happy and together and they both knew that.

Eventually he gestured to a bench on the sidewalk. It was twelve below freezing and so it was getting too cold to dodge it any longer. He started, she followed both trying to placate the other with neither willing to comprise the other's future for the sake of their own happiness- they cared too damn much and realised they were both too brilliant to compromise.

There was no compromise and the conversation stopped, but neither of them was getting up, neither of them wanted to be the one that walked away. She takes her hand out her pocket and reaches momentarily into his grasping his hand tightly. He squeezes her hand back gently; they both know that this is goodbye and it's hard. She tries to get up but he's not done holding her hand just yet and so she sits and looks him in the eye. He tells her he wishes she was wrong but he does have to go to Oregon but he doesn't wish she was the type of girl just to fall into place and go with him because then she wouldn't be her and he wouldn't have had the best four months with her. He wants to tell her he loves her, but it seems so harsh and pointless that he doesn't. She leans over, doing everything to stop herself from crying, she's not as crier, and kisses him on the cheek. She squeezes his hand once more as she rises, pulling her own hand back into her own pocket.

As she walked up the street she forced herself to look forward. If she'd been weak she'd have looked back and seen him with his head in his hands and he'd have seen the now uncontrollable tears in her eyes. They probably would have decided to try and make it work; she could've tried the whole Oregon 'desperate housewife' charade or maybe he could have just worked at the D triple C but it wouldn't have been right. The timings were all wrong.

She wouldn't see him for the next eighteen months and when she did it took her completely by surprise. Glenn, Santos first idiotic choice, had, as she could have predicted suffered some kind of mental breakdown four months into the job and so, even though she wasn't a fan of being sloppy seconds, she took on the position of senior security advisor. Those four months before had been torture; she'd had a painful amount of free time which was only buffered by her weekly lecturing slot at Georgetown on their foreign relations module and her twice weekly phone calls from CJ. He'd called her once in that four month period, two weeks after he'd left. She'd been out and he'd left a voicemail. She decided it was best not to call back, but she did archive the voicemail and when she'd had a particularly lonely day she'd curl up on her sofa and replay it more times than she'd care to mention. It was just something about his voice, it made her happy.

She'd dated a bit without much luck; to start with she blamed herself, using her low self-esteem as a shield but then she realised that these guys didn't make her laugh like he used to, these guys couldn't go toe to toe with her on anything, let alone Santos' idiotic handling of the Asian crisis, prior to her appointment, of course. But yes, in short they weren't him, they weren't even close to him and so she just sort of gave up and then with the new job she wouldn't have had time for anything anyway, at least, nothing except something like an office first date, or something.

But in the eighteenth month and approximately the second week she got up, got dressed and went to work as normal. It had been a particularly quiet day and so she'd spent the majority of it catching up on paper work and as a result buried in her office. At some time after the conventional lunch hour she realised she hadn't eaten and should probably do so and so walked up the stairs and entered the lobby- that's where she saw him, stood talking to Sam.

He didn't see her to start with, which was good as she had at least twice decided to turn round and go back downstairs which as a result made her look like she was doing some kind of spinning ritual. But it was as she walked towards him that he noticed her.

As she was approximately 10 feet away from him she felt her phone vibrate and her pager go off simultaneously never a good sign. She smiled at both Sam and him before turning round and going back to her office, quickly to be diverted to the situation room.

Had she come out of the situation room at all for the next five hours she would have found him waiting outside her office. But she didn't because as per work came first. Work always did.

That night when she went home she played the voicemail for the first time in five months, and then nine more times after that.

Four months later, by some miracle she was dating some guy. Well he wasn't really some guy, he was a good guy, a lawyer colleague of Sam's called Mike. Mike was nice, Mike was funny and Mike was local. She liked Mike, and Mike liked her. It was nice. They spent weekends together with Sam and his wife Ellie. It was how it was supposed to go. Yet on the night of the congressional election she'd told Mike she was sick and sat in her office with her laptop buffering the local Oregon news, waiting for any comment on or from their new congressmen.

When his face came on the screen she felt her heart beat a little faster. He'd won. There was a woman stood next to him on the podium. They looked happy. It had taken a good few rounds at the shooting range the next day to work that one off.

Mike, it turned out, was not so nice after all. Well no, that probably wasn't fair, he just wasn't cut out as 'Whitehouse boyfriend' and found he enjoyed spending time with a woman at the gym more than with a tired, rapidly burning out security advisor. She didn't cry or have any difficultly packing up his things, the only difficultly she'd honestly had was an argument they'd had over the shirt she slept in -she'd supposedly stolen from him , but he was wrong, and she was sure because, she knew it wasn't his shirt at all- it had been stolen from someone long before Mike was on the scene.

The next few months made her understand CJ's 'everyone has a Whitehouse sell by date' theory. She was exhausted all the time and the adrenaline that used to get her through the day was replaced by frustration at feeling that her advice was either being ignored or back benched by the president's new deputy security advisor Ben. Ben was young, and she'd give Ben the fact he knew his stuff and so when her and Ben went toe to toe on a particular day in the sit room she decided enough was enough and it was time to go.

The book wasn't even her idea, some publisher named Lola had told her to do it, and that it would be a big success- she didn't really understand why she was bothering and most of the stuff that should go in the book couldn't go in the book- but she did it anyway and although she would never admit it- she quite enjoyed doing it. But even though her publisher was in DC she couldn't help but wish this authorial epiphany couldn't have happened about two years earlier, as a desk in DC, was the same as a desk in Oregon.

The book did very well, especially considering its subject matter. It was the on the bedside tables of many, including the only bedside table that really mattered- and it had been there for some time- he was on his fifth reading.

She knew he was coming to the library opening, she'd gone to visit CJ and she'd asked who was going, Danny had reeled off a few names but his got her attention. For the next six weeks she was in the gym every day, even though she knew the woman on the podium was probably going to be there too.

She arranged to arrive with CJ and Danny to avoid the situation where she would have to be alone with him. As she walked into the building she couldn't help but notice the absence not only of the podium woman but also of a wedding ring.

It wasn't until after the library opening that they'd been left alone together. The president had engaged CJ and Danny in a conversation and Charlie was catching up with Donna. They stood for a moment in silence before he told her how much he'd also enjoyed her book and she congratulated him on the congressional win; they each brushed each other's compliments off as they always had and so slipped back into their comfortable conversational rhythm. It felt so natural, so easy and for the first time she realised that maybe being a soccer mom in Oregon wouldn't be the worst idea.

The library opening had the obligatory formal evening affair attached. She was wearing a dress she knew she couldn't really afford but with minimal arm twisting from CJ she left the store with no ability to pay for food for the next three months. But it was worth it because as he saw her enter the hall he swears he actually stopped breathing, she was literately breath taking.

They had been sat at different tables but throughout the night could be seen looking around to check where the other was. After the meal the jazz band started and she found herself, albeit after a few to many glasses of champagne, looking for him. She found him standing in the corner looking down at his phone. She told him it had been nice speaking to him earlier, he replied the same. They reached a lingering awkward pause as he looked back down at his phone and so she turned to go but as she did she felt his hand on her shoulder, turning her back towards him before taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor.

She'd protested at first. She had never danced before, even at her first two weddings she'd avoided it but with him it somehow seemed ok. They laughed as he spun her round and around. But then the music changed, and she felt her body suddenly so very close to his. His hands settled round the small of her back as her arms wrapped loosely round his neck and her head found the crook in his neck that'd she'd forgotten fit her so perfectly. The next two songs were slow too and she couldn't help but smile as he held so beautifully, dipping her slowly every now and then as the music allowed.

As the night came to a close the music stopped, most people headed home but he pulled her over to his table and sat her down. He told her not to worry about the fact he was drunk, he wasn't actually that drunk and it didn't matter even if he was because this needed saying and so she had to listen anyway. He told her that he was struggling, even three years on to get over that fact that he let her walk away in DC and that seeing her, dancing with her, holding her tonight had been unbearable because he's scared that she'll walk away again and next time he won't be so lucky that she's single because he has no idea how someone as wonderful as her still is. He stops himself from talking because he can see the tears in her eyes and he knows how she hates being emotional so he stands up and guides her out the ball room.

They don't say anything until they get into the elevator. She feels herself losing the battle and so just turns to him and buries her head into his chest but he's there ready pulling her still frame into his strong arms.

Her room is on the sixth floor and as the stop comes she gently pulls her head from his shoulder and takes his hand pulling him down the hall towards her room.

The minute he closes the door behind them she feels his arms again and for that second nothing else matters, she feels alive again as their lips finally reconnect. It's all so familiar and she feels his hands in her hair like they used to be and now it's her turn to find it hard to breathe. After what feels like only a split second he pulls away, suddenly looking worried and vulnerable. He asks her if this is what she wants or whether she is just going with the moment. She looks up at him, smiles, and tells him that this what she's wanted for approximately three years and two months and that this time, Oregon doesn't seem like such a bad idea. Before she can say anymore he is back in front of her, complete with dorky smile that she knows she's mirroring because this time this is the only option. This time the timing is right.

.


End file.
